"How is she doing?" Aly asked when Sabal emerged from the darkness. Their apparently fearless leader had been sitting by herself in the darkness for more than an hour now that they'd made camp. Sometimes they could hear her talking, but never to anyone they could perceive. There was no way it could be the mindflayer's influence any longer because the creature was very, very dead. But Sabal had been the first to admit it could have damaged Llolfaen.

In her own mind, the amber-eyed drowess had already jumped to that conclusion just because of the way the girl's mind felt. She sat down next to Aly, finding the mage's hand with her own. "Quiet, now. She's eating at the moment. I think it will wear off by the time we make it back to Menzoberranzan."

Aly gave Sabal's hand a soft squeeze and then twined their fingers together. Gestures of affection had to be small and secretive even out here in the tunnels. Nothing was safe, save for a few stolen moments behind closed and warded doors. "And if it doesn't?" She didn't have an overwhelming fondness for House Duskryn's daughter, but insanity was not a fate she would willingly give anyone over to.

A silence fell over them for a few moments and then finally Sabal said, "There is nothing we can do."

It was a very matter-of-fact statement no matter how callous it felt to Aly. But she wasn't going to fault Sabal for stating the truth. That was something she still hadn't become accustomed to: the way inquisitors spoke their minds. Generally, they seemed to keep quiet. But when they decided to speak it was with a sort of brutal honesty for the most part. Perhaps they were so used to people reading their thoughts. "I wish we could do more," Alystin said, turning her head to look over there.

Sabal felt a flash of something from that direction and sprang up to her feet. She ran, Aly hot on her heels. The camp didn't come rushing—they were asleep, save for the three on watch, and Sabal hadn't triggered the silent alarms. They bolted over to find Llolfaen kneeling and doubled over. The young drowess was tearing at her face and arms with her own fingernails, hissing things out in a language that sent shivers running down their spines and twisted their stomachs into knots.

"Llolfaen!" Sabal hissed, grabbing the girl by the wrists. She tried to pry Faen's hands away from her wounded face. The slight, young drowess was much stronger than she looked. It was actually difficult for the inquisitor. "Llolfaen!" Her name wasn't cutting through the self-destructive frenzy that seemed to have set in.

Aly crouched down next to Sabal as the girl writhed and struggled. The mage was grateful no one had woken up to see this. They needed something familiar to break her out of this state. A person, a place, a word. Like...a name. Aly realized they were using the wrong name. "Faen!" she barked, aiming for the authoritarian snap that Lirayne Duskryn would have. It was hardly a good imitation, but it was the best she could do.

It worked. Llolfaen seemed to snap back into focus again. Tears shone in her eyes, but they didn't fall. It was blood rolling down her cheeks. "I—" Her whole body seemed to slacken after all the stress.

Sabal released her as soon as she went limp. "I know, it's nothing," the inquisitor said. After she'd spoken, she felt a wave of relief roll off the young drowess. "You're fine. Everything is fine. Just let Aly take a look at those little scratches you have, alright?"

Grey eyes narrowed at them. "Are you patronizing me?" Llolfaen managed to bristle.

Sabal sensed the warning and knew Llolfaen probably was barely keeping ahold of her temper at the moment. She'd seen the girl in battle. The inquisitor and the mage could certainly take the priestess out, but it would be very unpleasant to do so. "No, Revered Llolfaen," Sabal said respectfully. "Just seeing to your wounds."

"Here," Aly said. She stretched out her hand and a soft warmth spread through Llolfaen's cheeks. The wounds closed and vanished without a single sign that they'd ever been there. "You look much better now, Priestess. You're back to your own now."

"Mine." They were Llolfaen's lips moving, but not her speaking. Her voice had a strange resonance to it and a hint of whispering woven into it.

Sabal almost flinched back from the girl's mind. In an instant, that blackness was back, drowning out every other hint of personality and individuality. She could feel Llolfaen struggling against it, but the priestess was like a woman fighting back the tide. "Aly, careful," she warned.

The mage didn't so much as bat an eye. She caught Llolfaen's hands before they could go back to her face. "Faen, I need you to listen to me," she crooned softly, following her instincts as a healer. It was unorthodox for a mage and doubly so for a drow, but she'd learned among the priestesses of Eilistraee and yet again with the cult. After all, Asaron hardly spoke harshly to anyone. The succubus knew how to flatter, how to taunt, and how to soothe in equal measure. "Come back. Everything is safe now. You're safe."

Llolfaen's eyes flickered closed and her breathing deepened again as she relaxed. "I'm fine," she mumbled out before opening them again. The clarity seemed more solid now, less temporary and fragile.

"Watch is over, Revered Llolfaen," Sabal said, noting the exhaustion that had worn itself around their leader's eyes. "You should get some rest."

Llolfaen nodded, rising to her feet. She even managed to make it to her bedroll before collapsing. Aly and Sabal exchanged a look. "I'd say she's doing poorly," Aly commented. She frowned. "What the hells was that?"

"Yvonnel knows, or at least thinks she does," Sabal said. She reached out, smoothing the worry lines in the mage's brow with her fingertips. It seemed to work, making the wizard relax. "She sent me out here for a reason. Whatever that mindflayer did, it stirred something up. Something...else."

"She practically reeks of divine magic," Alystin said, standing up with the aid of her staff. Despite her youth and vitality as a drow, her joints ached out here in the chill air of the tunnels. "Cess probably knows something."

"And how are we going to torture it out of them, exactly?" Sabal said, the problem of what to do rising like an iceberg through the mists of thought. It was one they seemed to be cruising towards at an alarming rate. Cessair might have been forgiving, but a wrong step with Yvonnel meant at best she would have her bonds strangling her and at worst she'd be dead. Yvonnel wouldn't—out of respect—kill Alystin these days. She would leave the punishing to Cess.

"I'll see what I can do," Aly promised. "I would bet my right arm that if Cessair knows, Asaron knows. And she'll talk to me if she thinks she can get what she wants. At least, she usually gives it a shot."

"And what, precisely, is that?" Sabal asked. All she knew about Asaron was that the creature happened to be a demon in service to Cess and the demon lord of Vallashan.

"She's a succubus, Sabal. I'll give you one guess."

Amber eyes narrowed. "I don't like this plan."

Asaron looked up from the maps laid out on the table and scattered papers as soon as she heard the door open. Currently, the succubus was undisguised. She curled a lock of brown hair around her finger and flashed a smile at the mage coming in. "I'm surprised to see you. Don't you have an inquisitor's bed to stay in, Alystin?"

The mage sighed, running her fingers through her hair. "She's angry with me," she said, dropping onto the couch like a stone. She was exhausted after the forced march back, but she understood why they'd made it. Llolfaen clearly needed to be back in Menzoberranzan as quickly as possible, if only to report that V'shal did in fact have a mindflayer problem. The derro went a long way to explaining where the city's scouts had gone as well.

"Poor baby," Asaron said with a healthy dose of sympathy, flicking the map closed casually to hide the battlefield from her weary guest. For one, it would be better that such information stayed between her and Cessair. And in addition, Asaron was a creature prone to boredom when her attention was drawn from her primary mission in life. With a mortal nearby, she reverted back to her nature and its corrupting influence.

Alystin had already proven an interesting little study. Even a demon like Asaron had to admire the way Cessair plucked heartstrings and manipulated so subtly that her pet project didn't realize what was happening. For a creature not drow or demon, the rogue had an amazing grasp of subterfuge. The abyssal influences of Vallashan had turned the supposed tiefling into an excellent mastermind and servant for the Lady of Sacrifice. Asaron heartily approved.

"I should probably take offense at that," Alystin muttered, closing her eyes and tipping her head back. "Llolfaen Duskryn is still alive and breathing. We even found a mindflayer. It was a very eventful trip."

Asaron twisted and crossed her legs, laying them across the wizard's lap. She observed the mortal with an expression of catlike fascination. She never grew tired of feeding off of the emotions and experiences of those children of the Material Plane. Lust was her tool, but it conjured up so many more things in different people. Some of her victims loved her. Some tormented themselves with guilt. Some hated her and others feared. Every single one gave her a rush like no other. Sometimes she felt so wasted here in the Material Plane, but then another victim would tumble into her lap and she knew she was right where she wanted to be. It was like leaving a tiger to watch over a herd of fawns.

"You know, if you ever get tired of her, I'm always available. To you, anyway," Asaron offered. So far, Alystin had shot her down every time. "Not that I imagine you're as neglected as most males."

"You'd be surprised," Aly said so softly that even Asaron almost missed it.

The succubus grinned. "Really? I'm surprised. She doesn't smell like the type to be a cold lover. Like Yvonnel."

Aly almost choked on air. "You and Yvonnel—?"

"Of course not, though maybe I'll suggest it to her next time," the succubus said with a laugh. "No, I meant she's another one that surprises you. I thought she was like any other priestess, ordering males to bed. Turns out she has quite the variety of charms to lure people in and that pulls in favors which she then uses to grease the wheels within wheels. No wonder so much of Menzoberranzan is curled around her finger. I admire that kind of seductive power."

"You would," Alystin said, resting her folded hands on Asaron's leg. The demon's tail twitched almost thoughtfully.

"Yes, well, we weren't talking about me. We were talking about you. A subject I find infinitely more interesting," Asaron said. "You know, your inquisitor probably isn't sitting around feeling sorry for herself. She is attractive and drow are hardly monogamous creatures. It's one of the things I love about your race."

Aly looked pained at the thought. "You think she would find someone else?"

The succubus had found a chink in the mage's armor and knew it was time to exploit it for everything it was worth. What did she have to lose? There was certainly more to gain, like an evening of distraction and more to feed off of. Really, Asaron thought of herself as a simple creature with simple needs. "I know it, darling," she said smoothly. "And more importantly, the other inquisitors and priestesses know it. The Yath'Abban is full of people who would do it just for the prestige and protection being her lover would convey, not counting the sort of wild good looks Sabal has on her side. Sure, she has a scar or two, but those are actually quite fetching."

Her interest was awoken now as Alystin rubbed her hands together slowly in worry. Sabotaging this was far more exciting than what she'd been doing earlier. And it wan't really doing harm to another member—not when Alystin was already destroying it herself. "What should I do?" the mage asked quietly.

"Do the same thing," Asaron suggested. "After all, there is a reason you came here instead of heading home." The succubus moved her legs and shifted so that she sat next to Aly, draping her arm across the back of the couch behind the drowess. "Offering comfort to the heartbroken is something of my speciality, should you need anything."

"I appreciate that," Alystin said. Asaron could sense that the mage was far less resistant to her charms this time around. Fascinating, how quickly a romance gone sour could push someone into another's arms.

"What did you and Sabal fight about, anyway? Is she jealous? Drow are quite possessive, in my experience," the succubus said, appearing very much the sympathetic ear. It worked enough that Aly relaxed ever so slightly.

"Yes. And she was angry about my suggestion of a way to help Llolfaen. The girl is all twisted up since we ran into a mindflayer. There's something else in her head," Aly said, tipping her head back. She was the picture of unhappiness. So much so that she didn't even protest when clawed fingers started to comb through her hair. It must have felt quite good to the stressed mortal.

"I wouldn't worry about that, darling. Lloth knows what She's doing."

The mage stiffened. "Lloth?"

Asaron stroked the drowess's hair soothingly until she relaxed again. "She is the Spider Queen's priestess. That means she has a big abyssal stamp on her soul that reads 'Mine' in big block lettering," she explained, a little more willing to talk now that Aly was in such a receptive mood. "Consider it an adaptation of Shami-Amourae's adorably flawed scheme. Sometimes powerful gods and demon lords just like to have a foothold in the Material Plane, so they choose certain receptive souls as little vessels for a fraction of their consciousness. Like Zincarla, almost, but without the dead body and backlash."

"And Llolfaen?" the wizard questioned even as her muscles seemed to unwind more and more. Asaron had this effect on people, making them feel comfortable and relaxed. One might almost say receptive.

"You're a smart mortal, darling. You'll understand if you think about it," the succubus said smoothly before the realization that she might have said a little bit more than Cessair would be happy with hit her. Her hand in Aly's hair paused as she considered her situation. It would probably be better to distract the drowess now for reasons more than to just feed. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," Aly admitted. She turned towards Asaron. "Thank you for being so understanding." Before she could even blink, the succubus's lips were against hers. It happened so fast that one moment she was fine and the next she felt her thoughts swirl with clouds as part of her energy drained away.

Stay with me, something in her thoughts suggested. It was an almost overpowering desire to just remain with Asaron and do whatever the succubus wanted. And the offer was so terribly tempting. Sabal doesn't want you. I want you. Stay and forget all the world for a while. Alystin struggled to focus through visions of what the succubus could do for her, gathering her will. She found the succubus's shoulders with her hands and pushed hard, breaking them apart.

"No, Asaron," she said with a firmness she didn't feel, still reeling. The temptation still lingered along with that feeling of absolute bliss. Her whole body burned with alight nerve endings.

The succubus laughed. "Your will is more powerful than I expected. Very good. I also liked the part where you were leading me on for information," she purred, catching Alystin's hand. She pulled the drowess into her arms, reigniting the effects of the kiss. "But no hard feelings." Just stay. I promise you that you won't regret a moment.

Aly pulled away and stood abruptly, but before she could make it a step, she had succubus wings around her and a tail curled around her wrist that tugged her around into another kiss. More of her strength faded, taking with it her will to fight. It would be so nice to just to give in.... She shook her head to break away and clear the thought that wasn't hers out. "I will hurt you," she warned the succubus half-heartedly, looking dazed and almost confused.

"Asaron, leave her alone," Cessair said sharply as she walked in. She'd caught the drowess's almost slurred speech and figured out what had happened pretty quickly.

"But I like it when they fight," Asaron complained, immediately releasing Alystin all the same. Making Cessair angry was not the wisest decision in the world. She did hold a great deal of power in her half-elven hands, after all.

The drowess stumbled over to a table, almost falling against it as she tried to put herself back together. It wasn't really working—she'd turned into a trembling bundle of need and want with half her strength and a lot more confusion. Remembering what the succubus had even said to her a moment ago, let alone before the onslaught, was a struggle right now. "Thanks, Cessair," she managed to get out after a few moments.

"What have I told you about playing with them when they say no?" Cessair said sternly. "Asaron, you get enough people willingly throwing themselves at your feet. Focus your attention there and stop molesting the mage."

The succubus tried to look suitably chastised, with minimal success. Really, she knew she was mostly in trouble because she'd gotten caught and Cessair tended only to care what she did with cult members. Anything else was fair game. "You could finish—" she started to suggest in a husky voice.

"What part of 'you are in trouble' are you having difficulty with?" the rogue said. She didn't look amused, so Asaron knew to drop it. "Now open a portal for Alystin back to House Druu'giir, if you would be so kind." The succubus sighed, feeling distinctly under-appreciated at the moment. She waved a hand, conjuring up a dark, swirling portal.

Aly stumbled through it and into her chambers back at home, right into Sabal's waiting arms. "Are you alright?" the inquisitor asked, barely managing to get it out before Alystin drew her into a heated kiss. The mage had found something to focus all the lust currently clouding her thoughts on that she really did want. And best of all, she knew Sabal was not going to complain. Sharing what she'd learned could wait until her mind cleared a little and the fog wasn't clinging to her memories.

"Bed, right now," she ordered when they had to stop to breathe. She'd never hated her lungs quite so much as she did now. Her fingers were threaded in Sabal's hair still when she arched into her lover. She had less than no patience right now, so that was her only warning.

"Aly, you—" Sabal tried to say, still worried but very, very distracted. Like everything with her mage, it was too good to forget about. Then she felt Aly tugging at her shirt and knew they needed to get to a bed or she was going to have the floor pressing into her back. Besides, the soft tongue moving against her own was very insistent. The wilder had no idea what was going on with the mage, but that was a feeling she was growing accustomed to.

...Abyssal affinity is carried in the blood. The closer in relation and the more powerful the demon, the stronger the affinity...

Llolfaen closed her book and looked over at where her mother was pouring over tactical maps of the area surrounding V'sal. This was as good a time to search for answers as any. It was a theory, only a theory, but it might explain her connection to what she thought was some part of the Abyss. Where else could the maddening whispering and the voice be coming from? She didn't understand how it became a divine connection, but she knew she would find out somehow. "Mother?"

"Yes?" Lirayne said, looking up. She'd been worried ever since Llolfaen came home. There was something different about her daughter now, an edge that hadn't been there before. And there was something else, just beyond the limits of her perception. All she had was a feeling about Faen, a concern.

"Who was my father?" she asked, watching closely for a reaction. She was not disappointed.

Lirayne went tense, her fist clenching on the maps in a way that almost tore the paper. She forced herself to relax her hand and smooth out the wrinkles. "It doesn't matter, Faen. Only my side counts for anything," she said abruptly, looking down at the maps. "You should know that by now."

"I do know. And this is something more I'd like to know." Llolfaen knew something was up now, but she couldn't read her mother's wooden expression. Was it pain? "Was it in a ritual?" That was the only place she could think of that her mother might have encountered a demon in that way, and Lirayne was certainly not going to disabuse her of the notion.

Lirayne sensed at least a partial escape. "Yes," she said through her clenched teeth. It wasn't really a lie, after all. Llolfaen was frowning intently. Better to tell half-truths and escape without discovery. After all, the cleric was far more practiced than her daughter at deception.

"Was it a demon?"

There was a hiss of indrawn breath from her mother. She was spot on with that one. "You'd be a draegloth if that were the case. Or some other half-demon creature," Lirayne said, doing her best to brush it off despite her slip.

"Valyne wasn't," she pointed out.

Lirayne sighed. She wasn't going to be able to keep everything secret, so if she told some now, she could avoid questions further down the road. "Your...father...was a balor."

Llolfaen raised her eyebrow in the Duskryn family way. "They aren't summoned in rituals."

"Neither are demon princes, but look at Valyne," Lirayne said. She sighed and got up, going over to her daughter and kneeling in front of her. She took both of Llolfaen's hands in her own. "Listen to me, Faen. I care about you. The Matron cares about you. Galen cares about you. Cess cares about you. Yvonnel cares about you." The last one was a little strange to know, but Lirayne was getting better at just going with the flow. "That should be all that matters. You are drow and you are an heir to the ivory throne, no matter what anyone says. Do you understand me?"

"But—"

A little more harshly, Lirayne repeated, "Do you understand me?"

Llolfaen nodded. Her mother was right, but it was still nice to know. It explained something of why she was the way she was. Now she just needed to find out more. And that meant going to other places.